Matchmakers
by thirteen's vodka
Summary: JJ and Garcia become matchmakers for Blake after discovering two deep secrets from the woman, but they are unaware that she’s already set her eyes on a certain Interpol agent. Eventual Blake/Prentiss.
1. Prologue

**_A/N: I don't really know why there aren't that many Blake/Prentiss fics out there because I could totally see them as a couple, lmao. If only we had more scenes with them honestly. Maybe Jeanne should come back as a guest star in future seasons?_**

 ** _Of course, this will be an AU. The Ethan storyline never happened; in fact, Ethan doesn't exist in this story. I just don't want to dwell on that topic since the writers never tinkered with it more due to Jeanne's departure as Alex Blake. Set in Season 9, right after '200' since that's when Prentiss and Blake first meet, and it's the only canon meeting they ever had. Ugh, I just really wished they had more scenes together!_**

 ** _Shit, I'm just really really excited for this._**

 ** _I don't own Criminal Minds or any other characters from other fandoms that are used and mentioned here. Rated M for extensive amount of language and suggested sexual themes. (Also, there's a lot of angst in this prologue. Maybe even more in some other chapters. Just get ready with your Kleenex because this might break your heart a bit!)_**

Alex Blake is tired. More so than usual. More so than she would've _liked_.

She thought that this would finally give her the peace she'd wanted for so damn long. 17 years, 9 months, 261 days, 8 hours, and 43 minutes to be scarily precise. _Wow, I even timed how long this marriage fell apart._ She rolls her eyes, somehow scouting out dry humour in her struggling, goddamn awful love life. It wasn't even a marriage, now that she ponders about it with more intellectual. It was more of a safety net for both of them, even though they hated to admit it. Alex was the first to give in to their façade, knowing that they would eventually have to deal with this broken marriage. Of course, James Blake never conceded anything because he was just _that_ damn stubborn. He was the only one who could compete with Alex; they were basically each other's rival. More so than lovers.

There was one time, however, that Alex felt that there could've been something more to this. Something more than just a promise to block out personal issues to focus more on their professionalism. It happened 20 years ago, when they first started 'dating.' Of course, they had to make the relationship seem like a legit one, so after they'd make that pact the year before, the two had started the relationship that—they'd sadly predicted—would eventually wear them both down in the years after.

Still, the thought didn't bother Alex since she was too focused on her career rather than deal with her personal life. She didn't want to deal with more shit than she'd had to put up with besides her goddamn family. Scott had been too much for her, and only Danny's reasoning 'convinced' her to stay near family. Sure, she'd been close to her family—as tight as her late grandmother's Christmas sweaters, perhaps—but her career path had meant that her personal life would be reduced to a hairbreadth of a moment.

So she sat at the dinner table across from James all those years ago, a staged smile forming in her face as they played out their ruse. The waitress assigned to them, Alex remembered to be a college student studying to be a nurse—a piece of info later revealed in a rapport they had, complimented on her classic, knee-length dress that she quoted, "my mother would kill me if she saw me wearing that!" as she took their orders. She vividly remembers James ordering a red wine steak with quinoa and asparagus; it was an meal that he'd enjoy eating years later as she'd learn how to cook.

The most memorable part of the evening, and the moment that Alex knew she wanted to fall in love with James, came in the form of a confession from the man himself. The words he spilled embedded in her for so long it practically haunted her. "Alex," he started, wiping off his mouth with a handkerchief. "We both know that this is wrong. This is going to drive us insane later on, but it just feels so right at the moment. And we both know you're going to say, 'we will cross that bridge when we get there' because I know I would say the exact damn thing." He sighed before taking another sip of his red wine. "So I need you to understand this now before we do anything else. We are running away from who we really are, and we are making a temporary safe place that going worsens our feelings afterwards because we are too damn stubborn to deal with them. Are you sure you're ready for that kind of life? That kind of commitment?"

Alex almosts laughs at the reminiscence. _I was so fucking committed at not being commitment at all._ She might as well keep his surname though; it wasn't much of a painful reminder to the stupid mistakes she made in the past. It was still her safety net—a haven she and James built to comfort each other. She really did love James, but she wasn't exactly _in_ love with him. Oh, how she wanted to prove him wrong when he had confided that she would never fall for him. It doesn't confuse her as to why she wanted to though; growing up in a Catholic community had worn her down. Her family didn't agree with the community, however, but the harsh words they spewed took a toll on the younger woman back then.

In a more direct way, yes—she is gay, and she couldn't deny it any longer.

"You finally got your answer?" James's husky voice chirps through the other end of the line. Yes, she had called him, knowing that she needed to do this (even if it meant being defeated by him). "I'm gonna take that awkward silence as a yes."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, James. It's time." A sigh of realisation exhales from her mouth. "Fuck. It's really time."

"So you finally admit it," James concludes, nodding head as he silently celebrates in triumph. It twists to a sudden dreary awareness that _this_ is really happening. "Although I don't want to, even now what the hell, we both know that this is the end. The endgame to our ploy that we both realise was going to end badly. Frankly, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would be, but it's sad that we're letting this go after so long. I was so sure that I'd die in the middle of it, and you'd be able to inherit everything I owned."

Alex scoffs. "What would I do with two million dollars, James? You know very well I'm not a woman that likes to go out _shopping_." She hears the man chuckle when she emphasises the last word. "You really do know how to amuse me at the worst times, do you? It almost makes me forget what we're actually about to do." A sigh. "I hate that."

"Stop this, Alex. This is what we both want—what we wanted from the very start." He sighs, trying to hold back his tears. "We are both stupid, and now we're ready to pay the price for that stupidity, right, Alex? I know it's very hard—even if we never really felt that romantic breeze with each other. There's still guilt, but we'll manage better than others. This was still a relationship, just not the traditional type. I should tell you this; I love you, Alex. I really do. I'll love you so much that it'll probably send me to my grave. But we both know we're not going to give what we need for each other. Just know that," he chokes back another tear, "that I'll love you more than I've ever been _in_ love with you, Alex Blake. Or Alex Miller. Whatever you prefer."

"Oh," Alex chuckles, wiping off a salty tear from her cheek, "I'm still keeping the surname. It's one of the good things that came out of this. I'll never be able to forget my first love. This is just a way of remembering that our bittersweet relationship isn't that sad. Sure, maybe we missed out on a lot of great memories, but we're finally settling down. Down to where it was going to eventually."

"Do you think you'll ever find love like you always dreamed about?" he inquires, after a moment of silence between them. Then, he realises how heart-wrenching the question was. "I'm sorry—I'll just sign the papers and travel back to Virginia to give them to you so you can finalise—"

"James, stop. Don't do that to me. I'm not that type of woman, remember? I'm not as fragile as you think I am, and you always seem to forget that." She sighs as she softens up again. "To answer your question, no, I don't think I'll ever find love like I did in those dreams. Expectations always ruins the results. I can't let my lovesick heart decay more of my reality than it already did."

The man nods. "Alright, Alex. Whatever you say." He smiles—sadness and joy mixed into such a small expression. "Thank you, Alex. Thank you for being with me for all those 20 years, even if it wasn't the _ideal_ marriage that you'd usually expect. Or anyone, really."

The brunette almost laughs. "It's amusing how you think that I expected my first marriage would be like the others. James, I know the divorce rates in this country, you should know better than that." She receives a chortle from the other end. "Call me a fucking realist, I really don't give a damn. I am not your stereotypical middle-aged woman. But you should know that, you're my ex-husband now, right?"

"You are too cruel."

"See, we're already getting along better than over divorced couples!" she muses in her sarcasm. "If we were like those couples over at Judge Judy, I would've hopped on the next damn plane just to scalp you."

"Love you too, Alex Blake."

"And I really don't love you all that much, James Blake."

"We are going to be a great divorced couple!"

"The very best." The line disconnects.

So now, Alex just sits on her chair, staring at another report that had been overdue for the past week since the team has to work cases non-stop. It's like the unsubs wanted to fuck with the BAU, just to tire them more than from their usual routine. The FBI Agent sighs; she's already accepted that she's very tired, but it's not because of the amount of bullshit she had to put up with the cases. Something else had bothered her more than anything else.

The problem comes in the form of a text, the message coming from a _Prentiss_. They started to bond more after the noirette agent flew over from London to save Jennifer Jareau from captivity. Truth is, they'd managed to slip each other's numbers into their contacts right before one had to hop the plane back to where they should've been working. Alex was amused at how much Prentiss would vent so much about how many rules she broke when doing the heroic deed, more so than they usually did casual texting.

The rants ended rather quite humourous; the Interpol agent would drink her sorrows away while the FBI agent watched from her tiny phone screen how the other would embarrass themselves from drunken texts. The morning after, Blake would find 247 messages detailing how sorry Prentiss was and giggle lightly before texting her a simple message, saying that it was a normal thing and that she had done it with James many times in the past. She wasn't lying; the man also had his issues.

What seems to be the complication through all of this was that: one, Alex is _very_ gay, and two, she's definitely falling for Emily. She should've confessed to James about the tiny crush, and she certainly would _never_ tell the team about it. What would she be thinking? 'Hey guys, I'm falling in love with the agent I replaced on this team. Did I mention that I'm really gay?' No. Hell no is she ever going to say that in front of them.

 _ **Prentiss:** Hey, heard you'd just gotten back from three consecutive cases. Have you been on energy drinks lately??_

Alex chuckles while she types a reply: _Haha, no, I'm never resorting back into those until I'm that desperate. I just chugged down 6 cups of coffee last night, however._

 _ **Prentiss:** Shit. If I tried to do that, I would drive myself to insanity. This is why I went back to tea, even though a lot of my British friends here seem to think it's because I'm trying to be like them!_

"What's so funny?"

Alex's head shot up to see a usual chirpy Garcia, mug rested on both her hands, standing mere feet away from her. She flips her phone down before flashing a weak smile back.

"Oooh, is that a text from your husband? Is it a naughty one?" the blonde woman suggests, getting suspicious of her fellow gumdrop.

"Alex Blake? Funny? In this economy?" the rhetorical questions come from JJ, who was catching up to the other blonde as she sipped her instant coffee. "Nah, I'm kidding. Is there any scandalous info about you and James that we, your dear female agent friends, need to know?"

Alex furrows an eyebrow at the younger agent. "JJ, you are scaring me more than usual considering the fact that you sound more like Garcia than Garcia herself." Said woman couldn't help but snort at the smug comeback from the older agent. "And as for James, we are done. We've reached into that agreement that 50% of American couples resorted to in the past few years."

Garcia's smile drops. "Oh my God, sweetie are you okay? Is there anything you'd want me to do? Do I have to tell James how much he hurt you? Oh, did he do anything physical to you?! I'm calling my chocolate thunder!" she rambles on as Alex lightly laughs at the bright woman's concern for her.

"No, no, Garcia, I'm not sad about this decision. Surely, I'm heartbroken, but this has been something we both wanted to do for a very long time, and we just didn't have the time—hell, we didn't even know how to discuss it!" Alex explains. "I really am humbled and happy about this divorce, guys, I truly am. I feel more free than I'd ever been before in my whole life!"

"Are you sure?" JJ tries to reason. "Many divorced women I've encountered have said the same thing, and they end up pretty messed up. I mean, we have victims and unsubs like that, Alex. I'm a particularly good listener, trust me on that."

Alex shakes her head. "No, JJ, I'm absolutely fine. James and I—our marriage was different. It isn't your typical 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you' sort of deal; we married each other because we were both so invested in our work that we didn't want our personal life to be in the middle of it. So we tied the knot because we were tied with our work. We did it so we wouldn't have to be bothered with our lives."

"Aw, Alex, that's just," Garcia breathes, resisting to roll her eyes as she cursed herself that she spoke too soon. "I don't know what to say. You guys deserve love—"

"But we didn't want love. We just wanted to do our work," Alex admits, cutting off Garcia's babble. "We thought that having a band on each other's fingers would solve this issue, even though we both knew it wasn't going to work. We did it because we were young, and frankly, I understand what I did because my stubborness practically runs through my entire family."

"Okay, I see a fair amount of logic in that mess," JJ notes, nodding along to Alex's explanation. "Considering that you're a very private person, this is a very surprising moment that we're having at the moment. Is there a deeper meaning to all of this than just a complicated marriage?"

 _Goddamn profilers,_ Alex snides to herself as she sighs. "Yes," she confesses, feeling a surprised two sets of eyes glancing at her. "It's not just because we wnated to do our work with more effienciency; we also wanted to run away from who we really _are_."

Garcia gasps as the realisation comes quick in her mind. "You're both GAY?!" she throws a hand over her mouth after she notices that she had said her thought out loud.

Before JJ could protest at the ridiculous claim, Alex nods. "Actually, James is bisexual, but we both knew he wasn't interested in me. I actually wanted to fall for him, y'know? It was just a tiny spark of a moment when we were having a date in a restaurant. He gave me a challenge, perhaps. A challenge that I miserably failed at."

"Despite both our families being supportive of who we are, we kind of resented it at first," she continues. "We'd use to vent all the time at how much we wished we could stop having these feelings for the same gender; then, when we were in the middle of our marriage, we stopped pretending and gave in to our sexualities, but that was right before the Amerithrax case, and that case really took a toll on me. Details coming along in a later time, it was really messy at the time, and James couldn't just leave me even though I'd insisted that he did for his own good."

"Wow, now that's a love story," Garcia states, which leads to smug smirk on her lips. "Wait, so when you say James and you are done...?"

"We're finalising the divorce tomorrow," Alex informs, but then her eyes widen when she realises what Garcia meant by the question. "You are not—"

"This is great!" JJ exclaims, catching on with Garcia's brilliant idea. "Alex, you need this. You're free, nothing's holding you back now. You are a 47 year-old, fresh straight out from the closet, and you are ready to mingle, whether you wanted to or not! I already know some women who would be interested in you!"

"But—"

"Up, pup, pup, pup! You're not bullshitting your way out of this one. Not this time, gumdrop!" Garcia insists, glaring daggers at the older woman. "We're going to be your finest matchmakers, and whether you agree to this or not, we're going to set you up on fantastic dates!"

Alex sighs in defeat. "I'm not escaping this, am I?"

"Nope, never!" JJ chimes in as the two blonde women walk out of the brunette's space. The older FBI agent could feel their excitement raging on as they were about to unleash hell on the woman. Oh hell, she's never coming out of this.

She flips her phone back and quickly skims through all of the missed texts from her one and only.

 _They're going to be the death of me._

 _ **Prentiss:** Wait, so JJ is in it on the matchmaking business now?_

 _Apparently._

 _ **Prentiss:** Wish I could help you with that, Blake, but I don't want to deal with those pacts ever again._

 _You're enjoying my pain and suffering, aren't you?_

 _ **Prentiss:** It's safe to say so._

Alex shakes her head. "You're the one that's going to send me to my grave," she murmurs to herself.

 ** _A/N: What a fucking mess of a prologue! I hope I didn't confuse you guys too much in the beginning. While angst may be a theme that write about a lot, I'm really terrible at it. I tried to be subtle while maintaining a detailed approach to it, so I hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. I felt like Alex and James were too good of a couple since they practically don't see each other for like months at a time. Also, I rushed the ending again. Hopefully that issue will be fixed in the future /_**

 ** _Anyways, I'm really excited to be writing this considering the fact that Blake/Prentiss is a ship I'd like to dwell around a lot. I have so many other oneshot ideas that involve Blake in it as well, and as some of you can tell, I really love Blake so much._**

 ** _Thanks for reading! Favourites and Alerts are appreciated and recommended as well!_**


	2. The Advice Columnist

**A/N: I originally finished this chapter the day after I posted this story, but I felt it was too rushed. I rewrote it and this is the product of the rewritten version ;)**

 **I don't own characters from Criminal Minds and other fandoms that have been mentioned.**

The seat belt feels relaxed as it slid through her breasts and latches itself inside the buckle. A breath escapes her mouth as she hears the car door close in on her. There's a few seconds of silence in between before her date reappears behind the wheel, a relieved smile forming in her lips. Her mind is still in a state of haywire, most likely due to the extensive amount of wine she downed before they abruptly left the restaurant.

Alex glances back at the petite woman as the engine of the car roars to life. "I'm ssorry," she slurs, attentive to the fact that she is smack down hammered. "So sorry, Phoebeee."

Said woman doesn't answer right away; she has a plastic look on her face, though she does mean well. The linguist knows that the younger woman is perceptive of her advantage to see through her bullshit—it's more out of habit than actual reasoning. They are both highly intelligent, a fact they are certain about each other, despite having a vague, almost desolate background revealed through themselves (actually, it was their peers that built up their dating profiles). Underestimation of each other would've deemed either of them unworthy of their assumed brilliance.

She—Blake—actually thought that the woman was a profiler at one point. A clever one, even.

"No need," Phoebe finally answers after taking a sharp right turn that caused the older woman's stomah to churn a bit. She deccelerates to allow the other woman to relax, sensing the sharp pain of her head suddenly bashing onto the seat behind. "I should be sorry as well. And for the atrocious driving—I'm also a bit tipsy, but I've always been feeling a bit on the edge when out in the road at night."

The FBI agent bites back a silly chuckle as she looks back at the date several hours before. Garcia and JJ had nagged the woman through several teeth-clenching, terribly sugarcoated phone calls to prep herself for the upcoming night. She had then wished that she didn't agree on a poll suggesting a one week vacation for the entire team due to the nonstop cases they were working on that finally came to a rest. If she had changed her mind, however, then Cruz would've probably—no, certainly—put her on desk duty for a month. She also wasn't ready to deal with an irritated, sleep-deprived Rossi, who was more than excited to finally catch up on his beauty sleep.

Phoebe had picked her up two hours later, though she was clearly rushing to arrive on time. Her dress and hair had been done, but her make-up wasn't completely the look she was going for. That and the fact that her erratic behaviour when she greeted her at the porch concluded said observation.

However, she was certainly a bit surprised at how well her demeanor shifted when they entered the restaurant. The woman wore a genuine smile as she led her to their reserved table, and she was downright relaxed when the waitress assigned to them had asked for their orders. The change in behaviour could possibly be the blame of her being a profiler, certainly not wanting the woman to take the hint that she was extremely nervous for this. It humoured the brunette; this date was utterly nerve-wrecking for her as well.

They started a casual rapport while they waited for their meals to arrive, learning something a bit more about themselves as they shot each other questions and blurt out quick, short answers. "I'm so sorry," she said, a frown on her face. "My sisters actually set me up on this date; you're this flipping well put, badass professional FBI agent, and that has me freaking shaking all over my body because I'm just a cheesy advice columnist!"

"Phoebe," she recalled herself saying, "there's really no reason you should be nervous around me. I'm a mess when it comes to dating, and that was before I married James. We only divorced a couple weeks back, and this is actually my first one ever since. If there's one of us that should be tense, then it should be me."

The petite woman sighed. "Marriage is so stressful on both sides. I don't know how my sister and my brother-in-law do it." She then chuckled. "How ironic. I spew out love advice for people and I have such an awful love life myself."

"We could drink to that."

"Hell yeah."

By the time their meals had arrived, Alex had downed most of the bottle of red wine and was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol beverage. She was hardly half her way to finishing her dish when she abruptly excused herself to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet when she expelled her stomach contents in the bowel. Fortunately, none of the vomit had sprayed on her dress, but Phoebe had insisted that they leave the restaurant already. She ordered a Sprite for the older woman to drink before they exited with a huge tip for the waitress.

Blake's thought train interrupts when the car suddenly halts to a stop. Looking up, she's a bit hazed, but she could see that they'd already arrived at her place. She holds her empty Sprite can as the other woman escorts her out of the vehicle, arm over her arm. It had been a while since she was this intoxicated, insisting that it was a waste of time and led to a pounding headache in the wake of the morning sun.

"I can stay over for the night."

"You don't have to."

Phoebe gives a look to the older woman; it's the 'are-you-actually-serious-Blake?' that she received usually from JJ or Garcia. "I always have an extra set of clothes in case something happens," she informs. "I've been in this dating game for a long time. Way too long, even."

Alex wants to laugh, but all she could make out was disturbing sounds that aren't of human nature. She remembers a similar time like this as she and Phoebe walk up to the porch of her house. The memory stretches far back into her high school days; it was one of the best nights of her life. It happened back when she was a confident, tomboyish senior that didn't give a damn outside school. She had a girls' night out when her two best friends—Sioban and Valerie; together, were the three smartasses of their senior year but Alex pulled through as valedictorian.

They were celebrating their final nights together before they would eventually separate to their own paths of success. At the time, Alex had a huge crush on Sioban. She knew how dilute homosexuality was at her school, and how the damn principal had to be extremely homophobic. The only coping mechanism that helped her was her passion of writing in her journal. She had 7 notebooks describing every little detail of her sapphic love for Sioban, though it didn't really bother her much because she had remained focused in her studies.

So when her drunken self decided to finally lock lips with the object of her affection, the euphoric feelings intensified when the other woman kisses back. It was then that they realised they both had wanted each other for a while, and that ended up with hot, steamy sex—in which they become each other's first. Tragically, they couldn't keep the relationship long distant as Alex decided to attend the FBI Academy not long after, and Sioban's studies to become a geneologist consumed most of her free time. They drifted apart for the better, but they still remain genuine friends.

"Alex?" Phoebe calls out, intercepting the woman's reminiscence again. "Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"Yeah, I can manage."

By then, the two women are inside—Phoebe setting her go-bag on a couch and Alex heading upstairs to change in her bedroom. Frankly, the FBI agent is relieved that she could finally take off this goddamn dress. The tightness of the attire reveal her the true intentions of why it had been banished in the dark of her stuffed closet for so long. Her sloshed status adds to the list uncomfortable things that's also been keeping her night such a chaotic disaster. To total more problems into the mess, she's trying to come about ways to apologise and make amends to Phoebe, even if she had dismissed the amount of regretful acknowledgements she drawled out.

The petite brunette doesn't seem to want to interrupt her privacy, given the fact that she hears the shower of the bathroom downstairs running—quite shocked, actually, that she figured out the faucet of the damn thing already—and that she could also hear the flirty lyrics of Bruno Mars echoing around the house. Alex doesn't comment on the obvious fact that she was inadvetently disturbing the usual serene tranquilness of her home, and secretly because she likes, quite appreciatively, the choice of artist. She goes back to her TARDIS-like (because it seems bigger on the inside) closet to dig her favourite pair of shorts and a Berkeley t-shirt, which still wraps around her a bit loosely even after the many years of wearing. She was so sure she'd thrown it or given it away to a charity since the incident of a laundry load shrinking after being set to a dryer, but she's relieved since the college is where she met James.

As if some higher power or being wanted to irritate her evening even more, her phone yet again chimes, and she doesn't hesitate to snatch the device from her bed to quickly analyse the notification.

 _ **Prentiss:** I take it that the date is going fine since you aren't venting it all on me about how disastrous it was???_

Alex stifles a chuckle.

 _Oh dear, I'm afraid to disappoint you._

 _ **Prentiss:** Lol, now Clyde owes me 100 euros._

She scoffs, furrowing a brow in annoyance.

 _ **Prentiss:** Did I hit a nerve in you, Dr. Alex Blake?? I can practically taste your vexation in my tongue._

 _That's a bit of a mouthful description, agent._

 _ **Prentiss:** Clever and funny. No wonder you get all the girls._

"Bitch." The cursed mutter is followed by another dry laugh. She comforts herself in the bedsheets over her mattress before answering a FaceTime call from the Interpol agent herself. "I'm knackered, Emily. I feel like I just got hit by a train and then flung into a field of jagged boulders and prickly gravel."

She hears the noirette clicking her tongue. "If it makes the pain feel a teeny bit better, I didn't even get the slightest hint that you were drunk, let alone concluding the amount of agony you're suffering already."

"I honestly just want to skip tomorrow already," Blake whines, feeling her tears well up inside. "Nothing is going to bring me out of bed the next day because the torture is going to get worse. The most I can hope for, realistically, is that I'm numb for at least some parts of the day." She then considers an idea. "Maybe I should just sleep in all day."

"I'm just surprised you aren't slurring as much because I know how much of a drinker you get when you drink unsupervised by the team." The Interpol chief pauses. "Garcia had sent me a few details about you during the plane ride back to London after we rescued JJ."

"Oh." _She even researched about me? Should I be at least flattered?_ "I'm flustered. Garcia really does have a list of fun facts about me?"

"She says it's two pages long, and that's her shortest list. If you'd like, and I don't know why I'm admitting this to you because I know how smug you can be"—Blake stiffles a laugh at her continuous babble—"you can go ask the resident Oracle of All Things Known and Unknown for my list. Spoilers, it's 12 more pages than yours. Rossi's is 31, however."

"Well, let's hope that she has gigantic handwriting or Garcia might actually be our own personal friendly stalker."

Emily snorts. "I think you may need reading glasses for this one. I needed mine, which I rarely ever use, so I could snoop into Morgan's when I wanted to get back at him once."

"Oh, you're evil, Emily Prentiss."

"And you still have Phoebe Halliwell staying at your house even though it's her nephew's birthday tomorrow, and she still needs to finish up a post before it's overdue!" Blake's eyes widen at the sudden information. "Who's the more evil one now?"

"But who's the one stalking me now?"

The Interpol agent bites her lip. "Don't do that to me, Doctor Blake. Now, go back to whatever you were doing with the lovely date of yours."

"She won't be mine for long."

The call terminates.

"Though I wish it was you."

 **A/N: Yes, the little, microscopic piece of angst in the end that somehow wrenches my heart even though I'm the one writing it. Am I the only one that likes to mentally abuse myself with all the torture that I give to my favourite agents? I hope not.**

 **And yes, that's Phoebe Halliwell from the TV Show _Charmed_. There was suggested queerness in her in some parts of the show, or at least I suggested it, especially when she was with Kyra. And me being such a slut for hot queer ladies, since I myself am such, I liked to toy with the idea. Although things didn't work out with them, I really liked the thought of Alex/Phoebe. **

**I might be considering this plot when writing this story: first the initial date, then something goes horribly wrong, and then Blake calls Prentiss to rant about how shitty it was. Maybe I'll tinker with it a bit, no?**

 **Anyways, I'll be stopping the notes at the end because I think I maybe annoying you guys with those, and honestly I think it's just a little too much for me. I never written any ending Author's Notes back when I wrote at Wattpad.**

 **Enough of me rambling, or typing actually; I really hope you guys are enjoying yourselves with this as I've seen quite a few people have. Hope I don't disappoint in the future! Thanks for reading xx**


	3. The Forensic Artist

**A/N: It took me a week to write the first date? Anyways, let's see how long it takes for me to write this one. I'm excited, personally.**

The team are on a case—the unsub they're chasing being a typical sexual sadist but uses their teenage children to lure their victims in instead. It's because their targets were adolescent girls of Southeast Asian heritage, which is highly specific due to the location of the murders. Lakeview, Nevada is a predominantly Hispanic town, though a diverse amount of ethnicities live harmoniously together. The only people of clear white decent are Sheriff Daniel and her small family.

"Racism is so severe in the neighbouring towns my wife became so disturbed by the amount of it since her step mother is half-Cambodian, half-Egyptian," she revealed to Blake in one of their rapports. "We didn't want our daughter to grow up with those bigots. Also, a fair amount of them were highly homophobic."

"We live in a world where characteristics such as race, sexuality, and gender are taken as seriously as wars and laws, and it's fucking ridiculous. I'm definitely ashamed of my generation for it, though I'm glad people are more accepting now."

Blake never knew she could curse right in front of another one inside of the law enforcement, she liked keeping things professional in her job, and Sheriff Daniels grew a wide grin on her face instead of a negative reaction. The older woman knew it wouldn't need to take a profiler to conclude that she'd been bottling up these passionate, furious emotions for a long time now. She was relieved to know that the sheriff didn't mind that slip-up at all; in fact, she could tell that she would've encouraged it again if she could.

Doctor Alex Blake definitely, certainly, loves humanity—just not the humans themselves.

When they eventually catch the unsub two nights later, it's like a needle in a haystack. Teresa Cordero, 27, and has three sisters— _identica_ _l_ sistersto be more emphasised. Apparently, her nanny, who was Indonesian, had tortured and raped all the sisters, mostly separately, and almost killed one of them, Regina. Teresa was closer to her than her other sisters, despite looking identical. When she moved out to college, she had planned for several years before returning back to hometown and murder the nanny without the other sisters' knowledge. She thrived over the experience of the torture, and the final release it did on her when she twisted the knife in her stomach and having her on chokehold encouraged her to kill more. They only found her out when Regina had confessed about the true nature of her nanny because Elena and Rosa had gone missing the night before.

Blake leans against the black SUV as her eyes follow the EMTs pushing the rollerbed with an injured Teresa into the ambulance with Regina and Sheriff Daniels. She's distracted by the things she recalled the young woman seething about before she had no choice but to shoot her arm or she could've killed Elena and Rosa.

 _"Regina was the only one worthy of living! Elena and Rosa are the worst, you've seen their true colours, yet you're protecting them? I've already devolved into something of a demon, someone who gets pleasure from hurting others. She's the purest, Regina, that is. But she had to be the one that received the worst of that bitch's psycho torturing sessions!"_

"Hey," JJ breathes, pulling the older woman out of her thoughts.

"I've been wondering," the brunette murmurs, mostly to herself, "about Sheriff Daniels, that is. She seemed a bit on edge when around me, and it's not the kind of there's-a-serial-killer-on-the-run edge, y'know? That could just be me though, but then again I'm high on self-loathing depression at the moment."

The younger woman does a double take. "Oh, so that's why you were avoiding her for the rest of the case," she concludes, receiving a furrowed eyebrow from the other woman. "Sheriff Daniels reached out to me after noticing your odd behaviour. I didn't even detect that sudden change of mood until she noted it."

"She has a wife and a daughter, JJ."

"But that's not why she was acting all skeptical around you," the blonde interjects. "She has a friend in town, and she's lonely. Very lonely. She wanted to ask you if you wanted to grab a coffee with her before we go back to DC."

"Oh," is all Blake could say on the matter.

They hear an SUV's engine roar to life, so the brunette opens the car door for JJ to step in and walks to the driver's side to climb in as well.

"She's very pretty. I think she's around my age." The linguist starts up the SUV as JJ swipes through several photos in her personal phone. "Daniels gave me a picture, and I already sent it to your phone. She'll be in The Bean at 8:00 am, several hours before her flight back home."

"It's like I already agreed to all of this."

"Oh, you really don't have a choice. She's expecting someone to sit with her since Sheriff Daniels can't. Plus, you kind of signed a contract with Garcia the moment you said you were gay."

"Garcia assumed I was."

"But she was right? Is she not?"

"Ugh, fuck."

* * *

"Excuse me, are you Dr. Alex Blake?"

Said doctor's head snaps up from the guilty pleasure book she _was_ passionately reading, irritation bubbling in her since she was about to get into a steamy scene between her favourite couple, to get a first glance at the woman inquiring for her. _Oh shit..._

"...I'm so sorry!" she finishes her thought out loud, a bit flustered while hurridly tidying up the table of her files and journals. "I apologise, Angela, but I just lost myself in this novel and let my guard down"—she hears her phone crashing down onto the pavement—"shit!"

Angela's smile only grows wider. "No, it's okay, honey, I could tell," she reassures, giving a double take at the sudden inappropriate thought that crossed her mind, "because I know how some women can react to _those_ kinds of fiction."

 _Fuck!_

The linguist's cheeks are flushed with shades of red. It's ironic considering that she couldn't make out, think of, words to speak despite her profession if one ponders about it.

"Sweetie, don't get embarrassed because of me!" The forensic artists invites herself and seats her incredibly attractive— _oh, for the love of God, Blake!—_ bum on the rusted metal chair across from the other woman. "My best friend wrote that series. The steamy scenes were written by her but they were my idea at first."

Blake presses her lips together, not wanting to make the atmosphere more awkward than so by speaking. Thoughts run in chaotic panic, and it gives the FBI agent somewhat of a pain in the arse when she couldn't reorganise them as efficiently she usually did. Then, it stops when a sudden curiosity sparks in her mind.

"You are best friends with the brilliant and famous forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan?"

The reaction amuses the younger woman. It's calm, unlike the squeals from others she had met through online dating. After all, she's an FBI profiler AND a brilliant college professor.

"Everyone seems to know her, but only for the books she writes." Angela's chirpy demeanour shifts, hints of guilt clearly showing from her stiff movement. "She's irritated with me because of it. She doesn't show her feelings but it's pretty evident."

The linguist nods her head steadily. Somehow,the forensic artist's confession became theraputic to her as if she's a medicine for her painful feelings. While it is true that admitting emotions were statistically proven to be relieving, she knows from personal experience that it hasn't been a recommended choice. The fact that she wants to admit them, though, is what's killing her inside slowly.

"I wish I could show her, tell her, what I truly feel about her," the younger woman continues to confess, "but she's with FBI Agent Booth now. I can't ruin anything between them just because of my stupid emotions."

It stings to be reminded of them, Blake wants to say. Her mouth, however, betrays her thought and the words are choked back in her throat. Then, finally, in fact, she could sense a curious skepticism through the other pair of dark brown eyes, and by one glance, she knows she's exposed.

"Don't let her go."

They're both still holding their glance.

"She's too far away, Angela. It's never going to work."

"Keep telling yourself that, hun. Those notifications tell a whole different story."

Ah, cornered.

* * *

 _ **Prentiss:** Oh shit, a lady friend you've been sexting with? Blake, what game are you playing?_

 _One, there's no sexting. Two, there's no game._

 _ **Prentiss:** Who the hell was texting you then?_

 _Garcia._

 _ **Prentiss:** Oh. Damn, of course._

Technically, she isn't telling a lie. The technical analyst had become more comfortable with the linguist these past couple of weeks, allowing her to smooth out and start flirting non-stop with her.

But Angela didn't see Garcia's texts pinging through. It was Emily's.

"I hate feelings so much."


	4. The Mayor of Storybrooke

**A/N: I had to.**

 **Disclaimer in the previous chapters.**

"I do apologise for being late to this date, considering the fact that this town is a bit on edge at the moment."

The latest in this dating fiasco is Mayor Regina Mills, who, surprisingly, was a dear friend of Penelope's during her days as a vigilante hacker. The blonde had been reconnecting with all her contacts when she was the Black Queen and somehow managed to hook the linguist up with a date while doing so.

Blake could already tell that this woman pulled through from a dark past, but she doesn't pry. She senses a cold, demanding tone dripping in the mayor's voice but can fish out the regret, melancholy, and hollowness hiding underneath.

There's also determination. A very dedicated one.

"You don't have to worry anymore, Mayor Mills," the linguist reassures, setting the half-empty mug of coffee on its coaster. "You are present, and that's all that matters now."

The raven-haired woman manages a small, warm smile as she takes the seat across from the FBI Agent. It's definitely a practice she is not used to doing, the smile, but Blake does grin back in appreciation for the effort. She has only arrived in Storybrooke a couple hours before and has already been warned by a selective few civillians of the ruthless, cold mayor they have.

Could be a misunderstanding. Maybe she's like that because of a mishap, disastrous moment, in the past. Turning new leaves is really a difficult task to manage.

It could be love. The whole issue.

 _God, will you keep your mind to yourself?_

"I've heard quite a bit about you, Dr. Blake." It's an opening. She's starting the conversation. _My God, she's analysing me. No, shit, stop! No profiling! No!_ "A fascinating history you have, I must say."

"People tend to describe it as that when they want to avoid the words 'depressing' or just plain miserable."

 _Oh my God, you are the worst on this._

But the mayor simply nods. "I admire your honesty, Dr. Blake. Not most people have the courage to face the facts and voice them out loud." The waitress, Ruby, hands over a cup of coffee and nods when Regina gives gratitude for the service.

"Well," Blake replies, "I'm not most people." She's giddyish on the inside when she finally uses Emily's line for a smooth transition.

Regina's soft grin cracks through her stern face. "Indeed so, Dr. Blake." She purses her lips on the mug and sips the burning hot liquid with a sense of satisfaction as it runs down her throat. "So, I gather that my dear friend Penelope Garcia works with you in the BAU? As a profiler?"

Blake internally smacks herself. Screw profiling tendencies!

"Oh, please, don't punish yourself!" The noirette mayor's voice sounds vile, but the intent is more conscious and caring. "Honestly. I'm a lost cause, and I don't like to admit it. But I've done my share of shit in the past. I can't be cold to you when you've just been worrying about me." She sighs. "I've seen those eyes, Dr. Blake. Penelope Garcia invented it."

There's relief inside the linguist's mind, but guilt still clashes within.

"I should be sorry for that," she speaks after her hesitation dies down a bit, "God, I feel like a stalker. I can feel every spec of dirt on my skin."

Somehow, she thinks about Emily. Ponders deeply about the younger Interpol Agent that had stole her attention and unintentionally has her wrapped around her finger. How (stupidly) in love she is.

This isn't right. Not when Regina is struggling and needs the comfort someone else now.

 _I need help, oh my God._

"You know, for such a respected and brilliant profiler that you are, you're terribly pitiful when it comes to hiding your own endearment to someone else." It's like Regina snatched her own conscience's words and made a small pep talk of it. "I'm more disappointed that dear Penelope hasn't noticed. Even the dwarfs in this town could see how lovesick you are."

That brings a light chuckle out of the linguist.

"Everyone I've dated since I slid my ring off gathered." She shrugs, making a 'tsk' sound with her tongue. "She probably knows, but she just doesn't know _who_. I think that's the problem."

Regina cocks a brow, which practically screams 'BULLSHIT!' Blake resists the urge to scoff, not ready to ruin such a moment like this.

"Do _not_ run away from these feelings, Dr. Blake," she demands, her imperative tone coming to light. The linguist almost feels ridiculed. "Penelope matched you with me for a reason. It's the _why_ that I haven't figured till now."

"Are you—?"

"Yes, but that's not the point here. You have a chance with her, I know it. _You_ know it."

"Ma'am—"

"Regina, please."

" _Regina_ , I have no idea what went on through your life, and I have a suspicion that it was difficult, but this isn't just about my life. It's different." A sigh of defeat as she chides in herself again for snapping at the woman. "It's also about her."

"Then _tell_ me about her."

Blake's dark eyes meet with a similar set from Regina's. In that moment, the linguist comes undone.

"She doesn't know it but she has a huge impact on everyone she cares about. She's a profiler, like me, and she worked for the BAU before she went back to England and I became her replacement. Before I met her, I would always hear these stories of this badass, amazingly talented, courageous dark-haired woman that never failed to bring out a smile in anyone. And then one of the agents in our team was kidnapped."

She pauses, taking in a deep breath. "We couldn't do much within our reach, so our boss called her, and she didn't hesitate to break any internation laws concerning this and flew back to Virginia to aid the team. The agent was rescued, and to celebrate, we went out. She and I managed to break through the ice, and we exchanged numbers before she left."

"And so you and her bonded with a long distance relationship." Blake nods at the other woman's conclusion.

"Very much so."

Regina looks down at her coffee mug; the beverage has long since chilled due to the cold weather and the atrocious heating system the diner has. She grimaces, yet she tentatively brings the drink to her mouth and downs it with one final gulp. She had forgotten the caffiene as she listened carefully to Blake's emotions pouring out of her mouth.

"She's quite similar, like me, right? A dark past but unlike becoming a icy-cold bitch to shield the pain, she closes herself with protective walls and dismisses her past whenever someone wants to pry her open a bit."

It definitely burns when she deliberately deadpans the truth out. Blake's pride is easily shattered, though she does not admit it.

"Dr. Blake, if I know myself, then I definitely know that I won't make the first move," Regina states, crossing her legs. "Talking from personal experience, she's probably falling in love with you. If not already head over heels for you. Penelope's on vacation, so I assume that you are too. Go get on a plane to England and tell. Then maybe kiss or go out to dinner. My business is only to tell you that you need to get your act together."

"Will do." Blake excuses herself from the seat. "And Regina?"

"Yes?"

"Only my students and acquaintances know me as Dr. Blake. I am Alex to you if I'm going to call you by Regina."

When she leaves, there's a soft smile on Regina's face that only occurs when her son is around.

"Penelope Garcia, you fine genius."

* * *

 _This is a really bad idea._

 _No, goddammit, Blake, stop being a pussy and call her!_

 _Holy shit, I am really that much of mess right now, aren't I?_

 _YOU STUPID FUCK, JUST CALL EMILY ALREADY AND TELL HER!_

Blake scares herself with that last thought as she sprays out the tap water inside her mouth. _Note to self: don't mentally attack yourself while drinking or eating something._ Her eyes are set on her phone, which keeps buzzing notifications from Garcia and JJ, who are curious on how it went down with Regina.

She decides to stay in Storybrooke for the night when a snowstorm hits the town, practically immobilising vehicles and preventing anyone from roaming throughout unless they wanted to be admitted to the hospital with severe frostbite. Regina offers her a guest room over at her house, but she settles with the cozy Inn next to the Diner, since she does enjoy Ruby and Widow Lucas' company. But as sweet as they are, the linguist admits to herself that she only stayed with them so she could work out some issues boiling within them.

It eventually does.

Suddenly, a call from Emily gets Blake grabbing her phone and answering on the first ring. When she puts the noirette on speaker, she could hear laughing on the other end.

"Blaaaaaaaaaaake..."

The linguist almost feels sorry for the woman. She's calling her at _4_ in the morning and is certainly hammered from her slurred speech. Still, Blake is amused.

"Wello hello, Agent Prentiss, how can I help ya?" She couldn't but bring out a snicker under her breath.

"Girrrrl, I am soooooooooooooo drunk!"

"I can deduce so."

More laughter. This time, another woman joins in.

Blake is taken back, almost alarmed, by this. _No, you're not going to be jealous!_

"Oh, oh, how was yourrr daaaaate??"

The lump in the linguist's throat clears. "She was, uhm, great. I just we're better off as friends instead." _For fuck's sake, what the hell are you doing??_

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, that's toooo baaaaad. She would've liiiked yooouuu in bedddd."

 _Wait, what?_

She snorts. "Oooops. Fuck. I'm juuuuuuuust spilling shiiiiit froooom my heeeeeaaad nooooooow. That's whaaaat haaappens when you're druuuuuuuunk."

"Okay, Emily, you need to go home now," Blake responds, her tone hinting demand and envy.

"Fiiiiiine, mom. I'll haaaave Vaaalerie bring me back to my flaaaaaaaaat."

 _Valerie. Definitely a woman._

Blake shrugs the thought off. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, hun, when you're having a killer headache and taking painkillers while emptying your stomach."

"Meeeeeeanieeeee!"

The line goes dead, and Blake smacks her face with her palm. _Really? You had to be a fucking bitch to her when you were absolutely ready to confess your feelings right there?_

 _Oh, you're kidding me, right. She was drunk._

 _That's still not the right behaviour to act like! It was immature!_

 _On the right side, she did slide in the fact that you're good in bed. Hmm?_

 _She didn't tell you about Valerie till now. Who knows, she could've been dating her for months behind your back!_

 _Behind your back??? You aren't dating her! A year ago, she only knew you through slight mentions from Garcia!_

 _For crying out loud, Blake, you're talking to yourself again!_

 _But that bed comment was kind of suspicious._

 _I'm really bad at this. I hate myself. I wish I didn't marry James. I just._

 _She's in love with you, dammit._

 _No._

 _Oh, I crave hell._

"I'm in love with you, Emily Prentiss, and I'm going through living hell because of this. And I hate you because you make me feel like this, goddammit!"

Tears fall from her reddened eyes.

"God, I love you, Emily Prentiss. I'm coming for you."

 **A/N: Hello, this is almost done. (sorry if I got Regina a bit OOC, but Garcia has an influence on everyone and so must she!)**


	5. The Love of Her Life

**A/N: Oh my...**

 **Disclaimer in the previous chapters.**

"So, you're leaving town for a while? Where exactly are you leaving? How long? I might have to just track you down if you won't tell me anything."

Blake decides to be a decent human being and calls Penelope and JJ about her trip to England. Actually, only about trip outside of _a_ country. At least she isn't lying, but it does weigh her down a bit with guilt. She had already told the rest of the team about her plans, and she was met with several relieved reactions that she was finally making good use to her vacation time.

"Hey, are you, by chance, meeting someone there? Someone we don't know about?" JJ muses through the camera. They're all on a three-way Skype call.

"WAIT A MINUTE! Are you going on a date? Did Regina actually like you?"

The FBI linguist almost snorts. Garcia has been beaming since the call had started, a bit overjoyed when it comes to this sessions. It's very techy, very Garcia-like, and despite Blake's first impressions with the app— _everything with technology these days is so damn difficult to comprehend!_ —she has warmed up to this set-up.

And oh boy, is she like a party cannon now!

"No, Regina and I are just newfound friends, Garcia." She downs the last of her guilty pleasure Irish coffee. "But I'll only tell you that I'm going somewhere in Europe."

"Wow, Alex, are you planning to get an accent before you go back?"

"I may have the ability to mimic several European accents, but I do not plan on sounding like a female David Tennant and Adele combined!"

Garcia almost chokes at the remark. Blake laughs.

"Hah, it's good that Garcia is in this call or I might've just deadpanned the lamest joke ever!"

JJ looks offended. "I know who they are! I'm not as clueless in the sci-fi category as you guys think!"

"You _like_ country music."

"TAYLOR SWIFT, ALEX, TAYLOR SWIFT!"

"Sure jan."

The technical analyst couldn't hold back her laughter; she practicallyyelled. "OHMYGOD, YOU USED A MEME! I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD!"

"I can see why these remarks are hilarious," she snickers, smirking at a red-hot JJ, "it burns so badly, doesn't it?"

The former media liason gives her a cold glare.

"Okay, grumpyhead, if you're going to be that petty"—Blake sits up—"then I'm going to go back to bed. I need to be up by 4 if I'm going to get the best seats in the plane."

Garcia puts on a sad smile. "Okay, honey, have a safe trip! Pretty sure JJ is going to get over her pout soon, but I'll speak for the both of us," she says, waving her hand at the camera. "Call us when you're in any type of emergency, please! Can't let Superwoman tackle her demons on her own, now can I?"

"Will do, Penelope."

This time, she's the one to exit the call.

* * *

Blake is brought up from her slumber 30 minutes earlier, like she usually did recently. Her hair is a touselled mess. Bedsheets are spread all over. An odour attacks her nose; it's probably the sweat that greases her pillows.

Despite how undone she looks (and her bed), the bedroom doesn't display the same tendencies.

She forces herself to leave the safe comfort of her bed, pulling the chain of the lamp besides her. The yellowish light brightens the room, fading into a dim darkness to the farthest corner of the space. Her feet trail to the bathroom, her spine shivering when she steps on the icy-cold tiled flooring.

The lightswitch flips on by the flick of her finger, and she almost flinches by the blinding light that ensues.

She's met by her reflection on the mirror and concludes that she's had another one of those nightmares again.

But she doesn't even remember a single detail.

"Alex, quit kidding yourself," she scolds at the mirror, then scoffs with rhetoric sarcasm. "Great, you're talking to yourself again."

 _And you need to stop beating yourself up because the Amerithrax shit happened years ago, bitch._

"Okay, I'm just going to take a shower and question my sanity over and over again."

So she does. Her clothes are shrugged off, and Alex takes one thorough glance at her body. Slight athletic build, age is starting to show via her slightly veiny hands. Abdomen is toned, but not ripped. There's a multitude of wounds, stab and gunshot, dispersed throughout the body, and they've taken a liking in her stomach area.

Three gunshots and a long, but faded, scar running down from just below her cleavage and ends near her bellybutton.

She miscarried a baby that day.

Once she's had her face splashed with water from the sink, the deep thoughts of her past injuries are whisked away into the back of her mind. Her eyes are wide open from the shock, so she proceeds to carry herself into the shower. Turning the faucet of the shower, a continuous spray of cold water makes contact with the linguist's naked body. It feels euphoric as every drop hits every inch of her bare skin, calming her nerves down as she lathers her hair with shampoo.

After a proper amount of time, she turns off the showers and exits to dry her hair with a nearby towel. She grabs her bathrobe and wraps it around her nude self, fastening the waist with a ribbon.

The outfit she had prepared for the trip lay neatly on her bed the same way when she notices. It consists of a loose brown knit turtleneck, a black flowy skirt over a pair of black stockings, and a pair of sweater-cuffed, black booties. Her outfits outside of work as an FBI agent and teacher are less demanding, but still highly boasted a formal lifestyle. When Blake tugs the attire on, she glances at her vanity mirror, and suddenly, she's 10 years younger.

 _Am I really that professional-looking?_

Her hair is blow-dryed, though not fully straightened, so she lets her locks cascade in shades of chocolate and chestnut. They're slightly wavy naturally, yet they still shine the same as they did 20 years ago. She hasn't done any dyes or highlights like the rest of her peers did back in her adolescent years, and she's glad that her mother prevented her to do so.

"Finally," she mumbles to herself as she finishes tidying up the bedroom. She eyes the clock as she's getting her luggage from the corner; 4:21 am. "Fuck."

And with that, she rushes off to meet with the person that holds her heart.

* * *

She wants to turn around and run away again, but she's too frozen in fear to allow her feet to do so.

Blake comes face-to-face with the same apartment door, the same one that has Emily Prentiss living her life on the other side. She's only seen the door during their FaceTime sessions; it feels surreal, having to finally lay her eyes upon the door in reality. Now, the grey hinged barrier is the only obstacle that separated both the women.

 _She could be on a case, though. There's not much noise coming from the other side._

She rolls her eyes.

 _No! You've come too far to do this now, Alex. Quit it with your bullshit excuses and do this!_

Doubts that haunted her mind are suddenly forgotten when her knuckles repeatedly make contact with the smooth, wooden surface in a series of knocks. "I can do this," she consecutively murmurs to herself in a mantra-like fashion. The linguist finds herself tapping her foot on the carpet flooring as she awaits her fate.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door crackles to life, squeaking open suddenly, and there she is.

Blake doesn't hold back anymore. "Oh, Emily, I—we need to talk," she starts, taking in the sight of the Interpol agent who is shocked of the presence before her.

"Blake? What are you doing here?" She's flustered.

"I'm sorry, Emily, I should've given you a heads up," the linguist apologises, trying to hold on to her heavy heart. "I called you two nights ago; you were drunk, though, so I hesitated and forgot to tell you. I should've also texted you, God, I'm a screwup—"

"Slow down, Blake," the noirrette interrupts gently."Are you okay? Did something happen? Is it the team?"

The linguist shakes her head. "No, Em, we're on a break right now. Listen, I just need to talk to you now." A sigh escapes her mouth. "I just don't know how to explain it because it just happened. It was so quick that I felt as if I was drowning."

"O-Okay. Just try to word it out the best you can."

Blake doesn't know how, but the two women are suddenly closer in distance, practically feeling their breaths heaving through their lungs.

"Actually, I might regret this later, but I need to do this now."

"What—?"

Crash. Sparks. Explosions. Blake closes in the unstable centimetres between them and claims the lips of Emily's in a searing kiss.

 _Oh God, oh my God._

She intended to pull back right back, but Emily suddenly latches on her sweater and corners her to the wall on the other side of the door. Blake lets gasp whisper through as the Interpol agent slides her hands below the sides of her torso. Their bodies are burning more with each liplock they could muster. It is not a slow, gentle kiss, but passively fierce and hungry, like they've been waiting for this moment since the day they were born.

When they part with a starstruck gaze on each other, Emily speaks first, "Wow. I should've told you how much I wanted to kiss from the moment I laid my eyes on you. That was probably the best kiss I've ever had in my life."

"Well, we have time to catch up on our days apart in the future," Blake giggles, almost like a 10 year old.

But Emily tugs her to a couch in a living room. "No, we need this _now_."

And in that moment, their needs are met.


	6. Epilogue

**A/N: I've finally reached the end! Thank you for those who read—I really enjoyed writing this short, fluffy (with a hint of that angst) fic of my fave BAU agents. I'll be writing more of these two in the future, just maybe not soon. School has just started back up again, and I've already just spent 4-6 hours finishing a packet my AP teacher had just given us today!**

 **Also, this is the naughty part that the 'M' rate in the fic was actually for.**

 **Disclaimer in the previous chapters!**

"I think they're going to murder me."

Tangled with her lover's warm, smooth body against hers, Alex tilts her head, burying more chestnut tresses of her hair in the soft deep-red pillow, and couldn't help but sneak out a giddy smile when Emily finds amusement to her dreas.

"And why does this crack you up, Agent Prentiss?" she further asks, only bringing up a snort from the noirrette.

"I think this was their plan all along, Alex."

The older woman lifts her head, just high enough so that she could press an elbow on the plush mattress, and furrows her eyebrows. She does a double-take, letting the past few weeks replay in her mind and then sinks back to have her skull lay on the pillow, eyes darted to ceiling in annoyance.

"Oh my God, I am such a dumbass!"

This time, Emily fails to stifle back her laughter. Her ever-growing teethed grin beats her will, and Alex continues to mope by gazing at the ceiling fan spiralling rapidly with cool breezes, not wanting (really, she just wanted to slap her and then fuck her again for 'punishment') to glance at her.

"I should just leave and make you sleep cold tonight."

"And not have that earth-shattering sex with me? No, no, Alex Blake. I know you. You crave that shit."

"Well, you aren't lying."

And suddenly, Emily's lips are harshly pressed on her own, sucking in the lust that had sparked between them during their teasing argument. Alex grabs hold of the dark locks already frizzed and knotted due to her own frustration and fast-pased tendencies, though the Interpol agent didn't mind. Despite her professional manner she displayed to the outside world, she is increasingly intimate and violent when it came to intercourse.

Especially now, when she topples the younger noirrette and turning her firm kisses into hungry bites as she runs down to the shoulder. Soft, pale flesh against her harsh teeth, she intends to leave reddened, sex-evident bruises in a trail. _To show that she's mine, of course. And that I'm hers._

"Oh, yes!" Emily groans loudly, a sound pleasant in Alex's sensitive ears. Enjoyment is evident through her sex-crazed, darkened eyes as the linguist pins her down on the bed, wrists clasped around tightening hands.

As if she hasn't gotten wet enough.

Alex doesn't waste time—teasing was over the moment Emily kissed her once more; a hand unwraps itself from the noirrette agent's wrists and travels down to her inner thighs and throbbing center, which was waiting for that release. She firmly rubs circles around the pearl, eliciting an aroused moan from her. This time, however, as she raises up a bit to nip at her neck roughly, four fingers force itself into the tight canal.

Emily's eyes are snapped open. "OH JESUS CHRIST, FUCK!" And she couldn't handle it anymore; her climax weighs down on her like the world on her shoulders and leaves her trembling underneath Alex's touch. She hasn't felt this way for as long as she could remember, maybe not at all.

It's Alex's turn to be humoured by Emily's loud orgasm. "I'm that much of a pleasure to you?" she questions, seduction and teasing dripping in her tone along with high amounts of hidden sarcasm. "Oh honey, you'll be in one hell of a ride with me then."

"Would I be _punished_ more if I said that I was faking it?"

"Hah," Alex spits out, letting her fingers exit the Interpol agent's opening and waving them as if it's sticky candy coating its surface, "does that look like you imitated one?" She takes her arousal slicked index and middle fingers, licks the tips eagerly, and slurps them clean. "Come on, no one can fake a taste like this!"

"Did you even hear my question, Alex Blake?"

"Oh, I did, but I'd do it either way. There's a room in my house perfect for _that_ kind of detention."

"Holy fucking shit, Alex, how are you still a teacher?"

A smirk. "I have my ways."

* * *

 **2 months later**

Alex Blake is ready. Totally ready. Maybe a little too ready.

 _Garcia, what have you done to me?_

Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, Reid, JJ, and Garcia all stand eagerly—some a bit confused, some excited—waiting patiently for the blushing linguist to calm her nerves down and lay out the announcement. They had just solved another case and needed some news that doesn't involve an unsub needed to be chased down.

"So, Blake, what's so exciting that you're actually grinning too widely about?" Morgan inquires, his furrowed eyebrows pointing at a relatively deep concern for the woman.

Alex is too flustered to just smack him instead of rolling her eyes like she used to. Ever since she started dating _her_ , the confident, wild side of the linguist has found life again and finds its way into her professionalism. Sarcastic remarks and badass comebacks spew out of her mouth more often, silencing Morgan and Reid while amusing JJ and Garcia. Even Hotch was impressed by her sass, something Rossi is still a bit bitter about.

Besides the boost of verbal comments, the implied sex talk in the team has increased—more so than even Cruz had wanted.

"My God, Morgan, you've waited for two days for that unsub to stupidly come out of hiding, and you cannot wait for another several minutes?" Alex folds her arms, feining irritation. "Do I have to use that teacher tone on you?"

"No, _ma'am._ "

"Okay, now shush." She glances at her Rolex. "She's here."

"Who's here?"

As if the building had read Morgan's mind, the elevator chimes and unfolds its door, revealing a familiar dark-haired woman dressed a bit too casual for her usual taste. Alex resists the urge to sprint and tackle her as a genuine smile (which mean so much more to her, sexually) spreads throughout her pronounced cheekbones. When she faces the team again, their expressions show mixed emotions of shock, relief, and joy.

"OH MY GOD!" Penelope, of course, is the first to speak after a moment of silence. "Emily! You're really here!"

This time, Emily is ready for the warm hug that the colourful blonde often gives her. "Ah, Pen, I've missed you so much!" she exclaims, accepting the embrace with wide arms.

After Penelope's welcoming gestures, Alex watches and bites the insides of her cheeks as Emily goes around receiving similar warm, heartfelt acknowledgements from the other team members. Her eyes wonder all over her figure, and she presses her thighs together, withstanding the pressure of her horny temptations to keep this a fluffy celebration.

 _Goddammit, Emily, you always wear those tight jeans around me!_

"So Prentiss and you are talking?" A foreign voice snatches her out of her dazing moment. It's Morgan; he has stepped out of the group and walked up to Alex to watch from afar.

"Short answer, yes," she replies nonchalantly. "Long answer, however, is—"

Alex's explanation is cut short when both agents never expected to spot Emily strutting up to them and cupping the linguist's cheek to pull her into a blissful liplock. The brunette grips onto the noirrette's other hand palming her hip, keeping them both in balance once they part shortly after.

"—well, that's one way of explaining it," she muses breathily, almost giggling as she glances at Morgan's flustered face, "but yeah. We're dating."

Penelope screeches so loud that the rest of the team becomes deaf for a solid few seconds.

Reid is trying to figure what happened in the last few moments and couldn't help but feel dumbfounded as his intelligent mind couldn't comprehend it.

Rossi blinks several times just to make sure it isn't his secret dirty mind playing tricks on him and that it isn't the porn film he watched last night _coming_ back to haunt him.

Morgan is quite embarrassed, mainly because he had flirted with both women indirectly before they shared that fucking hot kiss that had set his pants on fire.

JJ smiles, both glad and amused that Emily and Alex found romantic happiness with each other (and slightly because that kiss made her realise she isn't _that_ straight).

Hotch is shamefully relieved that Strauss isn't here to witness this; though she had worked out most of her issues with the team, he could certainly tell she wasn't able to get over Alex moving on and dreaded for a quick moment what would've happened if she were here to see this before masking his smile over his worry.

"Lexi, I think we broke the team." They snigger as the team's expressions become more in shock by Emily's use of the linguist's _many_ nicknames.

"Shit, that was fast, Em." A smirk sneaks up on Alex's face as her darkened eyes dart at Morgan's overly _pleased_ emotions down on his pants. _Oh my God, I hate him so much!_

Penelope couldn't handle her endurance anymore. "YOU GUYS ARE DATING OH MY GOD OMG I'M SO PROUD ALEX AND EMILY AHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Well, I couldn't do it without you guys," Alex mentions, drawing out wide grins from the female agents. "You guys are pretty demanding, but it was worth it."

"Yeah, you only needed a push so we gave you one," JJ chuckles, "and what a hell of a push that was!"

"Shut up, JJ!" Penelope pokes fun at her. "Alex, by the way, I'm kinda turned on by you kissing women, especially because you just kissed Emily. You guys should do that more often in front of me!"

"Baby girl, chill," Morgan starts, placing his palm on the technical analyst's shoulder. "Let them have their privacy."

"Hah, you're just jealous that Pen gets turned on when I do things I _love_ to do!" Emily sticks her tongue out.

"Settle down, _children._ " The team's attention reverts back to Alex, who is actually giddyish and ridiculously humoured by her authoritative voice. "I'm planning a dinner party at my place so we can celebrate there! Bring all kinds of alcohol, _please_ ; we're heating things up tonight."

Emily scoffs. "Okay, but you can't be mad at me now because you actually sound _exactly_ like milf pornstar."

"That's _exactly_ what I was going for, Miss Prentiss."

And that's how the team (plus Emily) stayed over at Alex's and had to withstand the flirtious couple making more horny jokes to each other while nursing a headsplitting hangover.

 **THE END!**

 **A/N: Lol, yeah, originally, the last chapter included the smut part but I changed my mind! I know that this is probably so OOC of Alex, but we really never got to know her. This would've been an entertaining side of her, but the writers never got a chance since they wrote her off. *sad face***

 **Again, thank you for reading this piece! I'll write more in the near future, don't worry!**

 **~ maeve**


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